


Secrets of the Heart

by katbear



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katbear/pseuds/katbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trials and tribulations of a new master in the Scribes' Guild, the boy he brings into the Guild as an apprentice and what happens when the apprentice grows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published in the 2013 ConStrict zine. Thanks to Sian for putting ConStrict together all these years.  
> Thanks to Merry Amelie and Sian for their beta support.  
> Art by Katbear.

 

 

 

 

**Part One – The Master**

The castle gates were open wide, the evening sun casting long shadows as the six horsemen slowly rode their weary mounts over the drawbridge, equine heads drooping and hooves clattering. Stable boys came running out to the courtyard to gather the horses as the group dismounted. Behind them, a middle-aged man in brown tunic and black hose advanced slowly, avoiding puddles in the cobbled yard.

"Welcome to Heldron Keep, Master Gianna," said the man. "Your journeymen and apprentices are already here setting up, but we were beginning to be afraid the Scribes’ Guild seniors weren't going to make it for the Choosing tomorrow."

"Thank you, Warden Varno." A short woman with graying black hair and a rueful smile shook his hand. "The rains were heavier than expected, but we're glad to be here now."

The last horseman in the group took off his cloak and shook off the smells of wet wool and wet horse, only half listening to the conversation. He was a tall, wiry man, brown hair tied back in a long tail, short scruffy beard along the edges of his chin, long fingers with permanent ink stains and graceful of movement. A master less than a month, Jerrell had come to the rank early, only ten years after being appointed a Journeyman a month after his twenty-first birth anniversary.

Gianna turned her head and called out, “Master Jerrell, since this is your first Choosing, please join me in making our greeting to the Duke while the others check on our team's preparations."

Jerrell groaned inwardly; he had been looking forward to a hot meal and a dry bed. Outwardly, he smiled graciously and nodded. "Of course, Master Gianna. Thank you for the opportunity."

**** **** ****

Jerrell stood and stretched to his full six-foot-four height, his muscles protesting at the long hours of sitting. It was his turn for an afternoon break, all the more welcome after three days of interviewing aspiring candidates for the Guild. He stepped out of the back flap of the tent and took a deep breath of the already crisp fall air. Jerrell took a few more breaths to clear his head after the close confines of the tent.

The recently anointed master decided to take a walk through the Choosing Ground toward the privies. This was one of several regional sessions held every fall to allow all of the Guilds to gather together to interview potential new apprentices. Each session was sponsored by the highest-ranking noble in the region and many tradesmen took advantage of the gathering to hawk their wares in a sort of mini-festival. Much business was also attended to between towns, noblemen and guild members. Jerrell's group would be participating in two more Choosings over the next few weeks.

Jerrell strolled down the main path. Large Guild tents alternated with sections of trade booths, each tent with a colorful Guild flag in front. By now, the long lines of candidates from the first day had been whittled down to a few remaining hopefuls. He passed the Guilds for Tailors, Miners, Weavers and was just going by the Musicians’ tent when he heard a hail.

"Jerrell? Is that you?"

Jerrell stopped, turned and smiled. "Good day to you, Journeyman Fiona."

"Oh, excuse me, MASTER Jerrell." The red-haired young woman with a harp slung over her back gave an exaggerated bow, then grinned as she reached up to touch the gold master's knot on the collar of Jerrell's dark blue tunic. "Congratulations. It is well-deserved, my friend."

"Thank you." Jerrell's smile broadened into a grin of his own and he hugged Fiona, whose head barely came to his shoulder even though she was taller than most women. "Are you free for a few minutes?"

"I am, indeed. Let's go to the square and you can buy me something to eat, since you no doubt now have far more money than a poor, pitiful journeyman." Fiona winked and jingled the few coins in the leather purse hanging from her belt.

"Not so much as you might think, being so newly arrived to the position." Jerrell's blue eyes twinkled. "But I'm sure I can manage a few meat pies and ale."

The two old friends walked a little further to where a square of food and drink booths had been set up with tables in the middle. They got their meals and sat at a table near the edge to get caught up on each other's adventures. They had often crossed paths over the years. The Scribes’ Guild had grown to encompass not just providing clerks and recordkeepers who could read and write but also archiving, developing and witnessing contracts, mapmaking, teaching literacy, mathematics and gathering of information from their many far-flung personnel. Sometimes senior members provided de facto diplomatic or mediation services. Musicians also traveled a great deal and often worked with their counterparts from the Scribes’ Guild to share information. It was on one such collaboration that Jerrell and Fiona had met.

Jerrell drained his mug and sighed. "As pleasant as it is to speak to you, I'm afraid I must leave," he said mournfully. "I do have duties now, my dear lady."

"As do we all." Fiona stood up. "Let's return the mugs and I'll walk you back."

"As long as we stop at the privies." Jerrell grinned. "That was actually where I was going when I met you."

They got back the deposit on their mugs, took care of business at the latrines and had just returned to the square when a solid thunk, followed by several florid curses and grunts, caught their attention. They hurried over behind the first tent past the square, the Millers’ Guild, and saw a tangle of bodies on the ground. They waded in and began pulling young toughs off the pile, tossing them aside until they reached the bottom of the heap, where two boys were still punching and kicking. Jerrell grabbed them by the scruffs of their muddy tunics and held them up.

"Alright now, what's going on?" said Jerrell sternly.

At the sight of the master's knot, both miscreants quieted. The bigger boy rubbed his bloodied nose and whined, "He was making fun of me and my mates, drawing horrible pictures."

"Ha," snorted the smaller lad, a thin, gangly thing in the 'all arms and legs' stage of life. "If you had half a brain, pig, you'd know what a caratkachur was."

"Oi, you –"

"Enough." Jerrell looked around but the rest of the boys had disappeared. He shook the larger of the two he had captured. "You, boy, what are you talking about?"

"I think they're talking about these," said Fiona. She had picked up several flat pieces of wood normally used for shelves; each was adorned with some charcoal drawings. She nodded thoughtfully as she looked at them. "Most of these are actually pretty good." She glanced at the boy dangling from Jerrell's fist and laughed. "Especially that one." She held it up.

"Oh." Jerrell smiled as he realized what the young lad had meant. "They're caricatures." He set the older boy down and loomed over him. "You, it was a compliment that he bothered to waste his time on the picture. In the future, resolve your issues with words, not fists." He gave the boy a swat and sent him on his way, then turned his attention to the lad. He put him down but didn't release his tunic as he studied the panels Fiona held up.

The lad squirmed but Jerrell tightened his grip. "What's your name, boy?"

"Keben, sir," he answered sullenly, looking at the ground.

"You have a bit of talent, Keben. I'm not going to hurt you, but I want to talk to you. How about if we go to the square and I get you something to eat?"

The thought of food seemed to win out over the lad's reluctance. "Alright, we can talk."

Jerrell gave Fiona a few coins and asked her to get some food while he snagged a rag and bucket of water from the back of one of the tradesmen's booths. He steered Keben to a vacant table and set to work; by the time Fiona returned, the worst of the mud and blood were gone, revealing an angular face with a dimpled chin, a dusting of freckles, gray-blue eyes, dark red-blond hair cut raggedly short and hands with long, expressive fingers.

"Keben, tell me about yourself. How old are you and where do you come from?" asked Jerrell as he tossed the rag in the bucket.

Keben eyed the small fruit pie Fiona had set on the table. "I'm ten, sir. From out past Glyborn way where Da has a farm for the Earl and does some forestry work, too. We're here to deliver a batch of prime lumber the Earl gifted to the Duke."

Jerrell nodded and Fiona passed the pie to Keben. He waited until the boy swallowed the first bite. "Those are good pictures you did. Do you draw anything else?"

"Only what I can do with charcoal and scraps. Can't afford anything else." The pie was rapidly disappearing. "Got two older brothers and three younger sisters and brothers."

"You speak well for a farm boy. Do you know any of your letters and numbers?"

"A little bit, sir." The last bit of pie was swallowed. "There was one of those Scribes came to the village a while back. He was always going on about learning and I used to sneak away to his classes." He gave a cheeky grin. "It was a lot more fun than hauling and cleaning and such, even if Ma did get out the switch."

"Hey, there you are, Keben!" A burly man in well-worn brown tunic, patched leggings and boots came up. "I'm sure sorry, sir, if he was bothering you. I done taught him better'n that." He reached for Keben's arm.

"No, it's fine," said Jerrell. "Are you Keben's father?"

"Yes, sir." The man bobbed his head.

Jerrell looked at Keben for a long moment. He couldn't really define it, but something about Keben spoke to him, whether it was his feisty spirit or that he had risked punishment to learn dusty old letters that most other children disliked.

"Have you ever thought about putting him in as a candidate for any of the Guilds?" Jerrell kept his voice casual.

"His Ma wants to put him in for the Silversmiths or Weavers," he sneaked a small glance of pride at his son, "on account of he's so good with his hands, but we ain't got no money for that kind of thing, sir." He shook his head, his mouth downturned in glum acceptance of his place in life.

"I understand." Jerrell nodded sympathetically; most of the Guilds, including his own, charged an apprenticeship fee. He made a sudden decision, one that would probably get him in trouble later, but he couldn't escape the feeling that this was the right thing to do. And dammit, he had deferred to the more senior masters for three days now on their choices, so what good was it being a master if he couldn't Choose at least one apprentice? "What is your name?"

"Sedel, sir." The man bobbed his head again.

"Tell you what, Sedel, how would you like your son to have a full scholarship in the Scribes’ Guild?"

 

**** **** ****

**Three years later**

 

It was late afternoon when the large coach from the riverside terminal pulled up outside the entrance to the Scribes’ Guild headquarters. Several men and women got out, sorted their bags, then headed for the double doors in the four-story stone structure.

An apprentice was waiting just inside for one of the passengers. "Master Jerrell, at your convenience Master Gianna respectfully requests that you join her in her office."

Jerrell kept his expression neutral, but inside he groaned. He knew that those words actually meant he should get his sorry self up to her office immediately. "Thank you. If you would be so kind, I'd appreciate it if you would take my bag to my quarters." He added his cloak as well; at least his black trousers and dark blue tunic were a little more presentable, despite the six days on horseback and two on a river barge that it took to get back to the capital city from his last stop. He glanced down at his knee-high black boots and sighed as he realized they were scuffed beyond rapid repair.

"Of course, sir." The apprentice took the leather pack with a grin that said he, too, knew exactly what the summons meant.

His supervisor in the Guild had a small office, but it was located two flights up with a nice view of the interior courtyard, in addition to a window in the outer wall. Jerrell knew the hot bath he had been eagerly anticipating would have to wait, so instead he reviewed everything that had happened during his six-month trip. Since he couldn't find any offenses sufficiently egregious to demand his immediate presence, he strongly suspected that he was not actually going to be the topic of the 'discussion'.

The petite master looked up from her wooden desk. Her hair was gray, her face lined, but her brown eyes were lively. "Master Jerrell, welcome back."

Jerrell bowed. "Thank you, Master Gianna. How may I be of service?"

"Walk with me, Master Jerrell."

Adjusting his stride to match Gianna's short steps, Jerrell paced beside her as they strolled around the inner balcony that overlooked the central square inside the building. "Was there something specific you wished to discuss, Master Gianna?"

"I understand that you had an interesting detour in Choran."

"The Warden of Cho-Nebed did ask me to assist in a little… um, misunderstanding." Jerrell thought it better to sidestep any immediate questions, given that his solution had been somewhat unorthodox, although not that much more so than many of his other adventures. "I had understood that you wished to encourage the use of our people as mediators?" He let his voice end on a questioning note.

"Of course, of course. I will defer my questions until after I see your report." Gianna waved a hand, one corner of her mouth jerking upward as if struggling to suppress a smile. A moment later, she stopped and rested her forearms on the edge of the balcony railing. "Actually, there is a significantly more serious matter to discuss, Master Jerrell."

"Yes?" Jerrell stood beside the elderly master, not venturing any questions.

"You are aware that in the three years since you were promoted from journeyman to master that you have developed a reputation for being, to put it politely, unconventional."

"I have followed my conscience in seeking solutions that I believe are in the best interests of all parties, while remaining true to my obligations to the Guild," Jerrell said mildly. He was indeed well aware that he was among a faction of younger masters who sought to grow the role of the Scribes’ Guild and that his methods were not always looked upon with favor. "But surely that is hardly news to you, Master Gianna." He allowed himself a small grin.

"Don't turn those innocent blue eyes on me," said Gianna gruffly. "Just because I Chose you as a Guild apprentice doesn't mean I won't give you a good thumping when you need it." Gianna had been on a team of Scribes’ Guild Masters at a Choosing many years earlier; it had been her voice that persuaded her fellow masters to take in a lanky orphan named Jerrell, who had taught himself to read and write from books he had borrowed from a local monastery. Gianna sighed. "You were a good apprentice and journeyman, Jerrell, but as masters we both must look to issues beyond the day-to-day work our Guild members perform. You have been improving at that and I have appreciated your support in expanding the scope of our Guild's mission, but you need to be more discreet about moving too quickly in some areas."

"Is there a particular problem?" Jerrell knew Gianna could be roundabout in getting to the point, but he was pretty sure they were finally arriving at the real reason he had been summoned to her presence. He was also sure he knew the name of the problem.

"Our traditions are very important to our existence, Jerrell. They help provide structure and guidance for our work and our lives. Several masters have expressed concern that you seem to take some of our traditions too lightly. In particular, I have been approached over the last year about your habit of bringing us odd new apprentices, many of them outside of the traditional Choosings."

"Perhaps there are some traditions that need to be reconsidered." Jerrell kept his tone soft; Gianna was usually on his side but could turn frosty if antagonized. "I found each of them to be worthy candidates and some of them would have never have made it to a regional Choosing to even be considered."

"Possibly. We will need to discuss that further, but for now I am simply asking that you be more discreet and slow your 'acquisitions'. I need time to deal with some of the nay-sayers and show that these new apprentices are just as good as those from traditional Choosings."

Jerrell wanted to protest; in his heart he was absolutely certain of the value of each young person he had recommended for the Guild, but his head told him that he could not afford to go too far in provoking the traditionalists who held a great deal of power in internal Guild politics. "Of course, Master Gianna." Jerrell nodded reluctantly. "I understand and I don't want to make your work any more difficult than it already is. I'll try to steer potential candidates toward the Choosings. Is that all?" He knew it was a forlorn hope but had to ask anyway.

"No. There is a very particular problem that has caused this issue to surface." Gianna glanced upward. "At the moment, you need to have a chat with that young lad you talked us into taking at your first Choosing."

"I thought Keben was doing well. Master Votalla told me the boy has learned more in three years than most others do in twice the time and is fully caught up with his peers, despite his limited knowledge when he came to us."

"He seeks out new information like a starving hound attacks a bone; that's not the problem." She poked a finger at Jerrell's arm. "He also eats like a starving hound, runs everywhere, speaks when he should be quiet and leaves those silly pictures where they shouldn't be left." Keben had developed a remarkable talent for all-too-accurate caricatures, which were not always well-received by their subjects.

"He was quite thin when he arrived," murmured Jerrell, resisting the urge to rub his arm where Gianna had continued to poke him to emphasize each of her points.

"Hmpph! You know very well what I'm talking about, young man," retorted Gianna. "He adores you like an uncle and has begun to emulate what he thinks are your independent ways." Another poke to Jerrell's arm. "He needs to learn the tact and circumspection that it took me so many years to pound into your thick skull or all that talent will be wasted by being stuffed into some musty old archive room just to keep him out of the way, assuming he is even allowed to stay in the Guild."

Jerrell had been about to protest that thirty-four was not that young but decided discretion was the better course. He simply nodded, knowing that the boy really could be turned out of the Guild if enough masters demanded it. "Yes, Master Gianna. I'll have a word with him."

"I'll think you'll have your opportunity shortly." Gianna pointed down into the courtyard.

A small stream of students was emerging from a side corridor, several of them speaking quietly. One of them suddenly stopped and stared upward. The next moment a most undignified bellow split the air. "Master Jerrell! Master Jerrell!" With a whoop, a boy began scrambling up the wooden columns that led upward to the interior balconies on the second and third floors.

"There is only so much I can do to help both you and him, Jerrell." Gianna raised an eyebrow and continued softly, "Tame your little hellion before others decide to take matters into their own hands." She turned and left before Jerrell could respond.

Jerrell didn't have time to worry about an answer. A freckle-nosed face with loose hair turning from reddish blond to russet emerged above the railing, followed shortly by the rest of what had become a well-shaped athletic body. The thirteen-year-old's features showed promise of possible future beauty, but even now his face was honest and pleasant.

"Master Jerrell! I knew you'd come back for my birthday!" Keben threw himself at Jerrell and hugged him fiercely.

Jerrell returned the hug and then swung him around twice before setting him on his feet. The light from the beaming boy warmed his heart whenever he was with him, and he was proud of his progress. He took Keben's hand as they walked down the corridor, patting his pocket to make sure the colored pencils he had found for him on his trip were still safe. "Let's go to evening meal and you can tell me what you've been learning, Keben."

"We've got lots to talk about, Master Jerrell." Keben's smile was radiant and his dark grey-blue eyes sparkled. "Master Kaw said I had the best penmanship in the class, and I beat all the other boys and girls in the math competition." He tugged at his hand as he walked faster. "And Master Poltro said I could start the self-defense classes this summer. It will be fun!" Keben looked up; despite his recent growth his chin still barely topped the master's belt. "I drew some new pictures for you, too. Journeyman Hura is showing me how to do maps and more realistic people."

"I look forward to seeing them." Jerrell smiled fondly as Keben chattered on enthusiastically while they walked, pondering how to turn his boundless energy and eagerness into more 'acceptable' behavior, while not stifling his zest for life. He sighed and decided to enjoy the moment and leave that talk for later in the evening.

 

**** **** ****

**Two years later**

 

"Keben, are you listening at all?" Jerrell leaned over and glared down at the sheet of paper on the table; there were a few lines of elegant cursive writing but the greater part of the white space was filled with a series of profiles of various Guild masters.

The fifteen-year-old glared back. "This stuff is boring," he said, a petulant whine in his voice. "Why do I need to study law and ethics? I want to do interesting things like teaching, writing books and mapmaking when I become a journeyman. Especially mapmaking."

Jerrell bit back his first exasperated answer and instead paced to the fourth floor window. As he took a few deep breaths, he wondered briefly if he had been this difficult as a teenager and had a flash of sympathy for the Guild teachers. Master Gianna had assigned him to one of his periodic individual training sessions with the tempestuous apprentice, who was going through a particularly stubborn period. He stared out and wondered how he could make Keben understand; punishments such as working in the kitchen or scrubbing floors did not bother him as he didn't mind working hard, instead using the dull duties as an opportunity to make up stories in his head. Jerrell looked down into the bustling streets of the capital and had a sudden thought. He walked back to the table where they had been working.

"Keben, do you understand what it means to be a Scribe?" asked Jerrell.

The boy looked at the master warily as if suspecting a trick question. "A Scribe learns the skills to understand and record information and uses those skills to provide services to the people of the kingdom. And, um…'" Keben's face twisted in concentration for a moment. "A Scribe helps people communicate," he added triumphantly.

Jerrell smiled as Keben parroted back one of his own favorite phrases. "Yes, Scribes help people communicate. We deal in knowledge and are trusted to respect the value of that knowledge, ensuring it is accurate and used for good. What do you think happens to all that information a Scribe records and communicates?"

"Well, ordinary things like letters get sent to whomever the writer wants it to go to. Official things like tax records go into archives and books into libraries." Keben shrugged. "And some Scribes get stuck archiving the official things."

"What happens to the tax money that people pay based on the written records our Scribes put together?"

"The government uses it do stuff?" hazarded the apprentice.

"Yes, the government uses it do 'stuff' like providing police, roads, clean water, care for the poor and even," Jerrell added dryly, "the stipend they pay our Guild for our services."

"Oh. I guess I've never thought about it that way."

"What would you do if you were a journeyman Scribe assigned to a regional tax office and a wealthy landowner offered you a bribe to leave some of his property off the tax record or to change a property boundary on a map you were drawing?"

"I would never fake his records," said Keben indignantly. "I know better than that."

"What if a poor person asked you to leave off one of his three cows so he'd have enough extra money to feed his babies? And if his tax money would have gone to help pay a low-ranking policeman so he could buy food for his family?"

"Well…" Keben shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I suppose I'd have to leave his cow on the record."

"Even if it meant a baby might go hungry?"

"I… I guess I'd have to think about that."

"Let me give you another example at a higher level. Suppose you were a master Scribe and two minor noblemen came to you to ask for your help in resolving a boundary dispute. At stake are several springs and a particularly rich mine, so whoever wins will be much wealthier but the loser will be angry enough to fight over the results. Both sides have offered you a large bribe to find or create records and maps which support their side in court. What would you do?"

Jerrell let silence linger while Keben stared down and tapped on the table with his pencil.

"Do you do that sort of thing, Master Jerrell?" Keben finally asked.

"Yes," Jerrell replied. "And it is the kind of service the Guild wants to do more of."

"Oh," said Keben very quietly. He looked up at Jerrell, hesitated a moment before speaking. "I don't think I really understand everything a Scribe might do or need to know." He stood up and walked around the table to where Jerrell stood. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening to you, Master Jerrell," he said solemnly. "Can we start the lesson over?"

"Of course." Jerrell smiled and gathered the apprentice in for a hug.

 

**** **** ****

**Another two years**

 

"Are you certain you wish to do this, Master Jerrell?" Master Gianna leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled, her expression weary.

"Masters frequently take one or more promising apprentices for personal instruction. Keben has completed most of the training that he can do here and he's champing at the bit to go out on the road for advanced training and seasoning. His technical skills are becoming remarkable, but he's also learned to observe and interact well with people, a talent we need to cultivate. He'd be a perfect fit to help with mediation work but needs to get some mundane work under his belt also." Jerrell's carefully rehearsed arguments did not seem to be making much of an impression on the elder master. He leaned forward a bit in his own chair. "The work that Keben requires for his development is an excellent complement to the missions that you've been sending me on for years. He can meet dignitaries and join other apprentices and journeymen in their routine tasks. It's certainly time to put his patience and discretion to the test to find out if he's truly learned what you tasked me with teaching him, don't you think?"

"Those are all good points, Master Jerrell. Keben has worked hard and has earned an opportunity to move on to more difficult efforts." Gianna looked intently at Jerrell. "Actually, it is not Keben that I am concerned for. I would ask you to consider the Guild's motto."

"Our motto?" Jerrell's mouth quirked in annoyance, but at Gianna's nod he obediently recited the words. "To serve with truth, impartiality and quality." He crossed his arms. "I believe that I have always honorably carried out those words, even if others may not always like the methods I have used to achieve what I felt was the best solution for those who needed our assistance. What does that have to do with my request?"

"The words apply to our obligations to each other as well. It is widely known that you have favored Keben since he arrived." Gianna raised a hand to stop Jerrell's words. "I have no doubt that you would train him properly and that he will work very hard under your tutelage. My concern is for you and your heart. How much do you care for him? He is seventeen now - what is his place in your heart as he grows into a young man? Think well before you answer."

Jerrell closed his lips over the response he had been about to give. He drew a deep breath, let it out very slowly as he considered. The silence in the room hung heavy.

"That is a good question and I can understand your concern." Jerrell straightened his shoulders as he measured out his words. "I do care for Keben. He was my first Choosing and I admit that I have always had a special interest in him. But I care for him as a parent does for a child or a teacher for a special student who will one day hopefully surpass him."

"You understand that if those feelings should change in the future, for whatever reason, I must enforce the Guild rules. Keben belongs first to the Guild. He cannot choose a partner or marry until he has been a Journeyman for at least three years, and he will not be eligible to even apply for that status until he turns twenty-one."

"I am a Guild Master; I take that responsibility very seriously. I would never do anything to harm him or try to influence such a choice, much as I doubt that ever becoming an issue." Jerrell stood, his hands at his sides. "Keben has a tremendous potential and I want to make sure he has the opportunity to realize that potential, for himself AND for the Guild. If you believe there is another who can teach him better, then I shall certainly withdraw my request. If not, then I would like an answer before I leave for my next mission in a few days."

"It goes against my better judgment, but he is still a spirited and strong-willed thing and I doubt there is any other master who is stubborn enough to get him to listen effectively." Gianna sighed as she slumped back in her chair. "Very well, Master Jerrell, you shall take Keben as your apprentice for advanced training."

"Thank you, Master Gianna." Jerrell allowed himself a tiny smile as he bowed. "You won't regret this decision."

Gianna waved him away, muttering almost inaudibly to herself, "I hope neither of us comes to regret this."

 

**** **** ****

 

Master Jerrell of the Scribes’ Guild was nothing if not thorough. The next year was spent in mission after mission, some short and some long. He and his apprentice visited several regions of the vast kingdom, the master checking on the quality of work being provided to patrons, helping set up schools, occasionally being asked to help settle disputes. The apprentice observed, took notes, participated in projects for updating tax records, archiving, creating new records and always on the alert for the questions and tests the master threw at him. The path was not always smooth or easy – Keben was not enthusiastic about tedious tasks such as counting and recording how many sheaves of grain came from each farm, but Jerrell patiently reinforced his lessons about the importance of 'real world' work with carefully chosen tasks he found more appealing.

It was near the end of their first year of 'venturing', as Keben liked to call it, that Jerrell got his first inkling that perhaps one thing in particular was not going quite as he had anticipated. A mediation mission had been successfully completed and they were on the road back to the capitol. An enjoyable inn was their temporary home for the evening and Jerrell was in a pleasant mood, congratulating himself on how well Keben had helped and on his improvement in general. A young journeyman from the Musicians’ Guild had been playing his gitarro and singing for the crowd; when he finished he came over to the table shared by Jerrell and Keben. Jerrell bought them all a round of ale, and they chatted about world affairs for almost an hour.

"I think I'll turn in, but you may stay a while if you wish Keben," said Jerrell through a yawn. "Just remember we have an early departure in the morning."

"Actually, it's an amazingly nice evening," suggested the singer. "Would you care to walk with me outside for a bit, Keben?"

"I'd love to." Keben had slid out of their booth and stood up before Jerrell could gather his wits to object. "I shan't be late, Master Jerrell." Something in Jerrell's expression clearly amused him; he leaned close and whispered to him, "Don't worry, Master, I know how and where to kick him if necessary." He gave Jerrell a chaste kiss on the cheek and turned to leave.

Jerrell sat silently as they left, then slowly reached up to touch his cheek. They had been so busy he had forgotten how much Keben had been growing up. He had long since reached his full height, his freckles had faded and his hair had finally decided to shift to a medium brown with red highlights. While he would never be a classic beauty, he realized that Keben had a pleasing face and incredible smile which were clearly attractive to others. He also realized how much he had come to enjoy Keben's presence in his life. Jerrell took himself off to bed to think about this new view of his apprentice.

His new insight into Keben's potential intimate interactions with others jolted the master more than he liked to think about. He had believed his own words when he assured Gianna that his feelings for Keben were strictly paternal, but he was beginning to suspect that he had blinded himself to the potential changes in those feelings as he was thrown together in continuing close proximity to the young man that Keben had become.

 

**** **** ****

 

Over the next year the master Scribe paid close attention to his relationship with the apprentice the rest of the Guild had come to think of as 'Jerrell's golden child'. Keben had turned his early stubbornness into a determined pursuit of excellence and continued to soak up new learning like a sponge seeking water in the desert. He had learned to read people like the books he devoured and used his talent for art not just for maps but for creating pleasing portraits at meetings that gained them goodwill in sometimes contentious mediation disputes. Keben had also discovered that, when he wished to, he could make himself seem to be so average in appearance and genial in demeanor that other people did not see him as a threat or rival and were often remarkably willing to chat with him and provide more information than they had intended. All in all, Keben was in a fair way to becoming a journeyman well ahead of most of his peers.

The master and apprentice Scribes were ambling along on a lonely road far from the nearest town when a sudden rainfall caught them in the open. They pulled their horses off the road and hastily constructed a lean-to shelter from fallen branches, which at least provided some cover for their gear and themselves. They picketed the horses and found enough relatively dry wood for a welcome, if rather smoky, fire. After a sketchy meal of dried meat and fruit, they sat sipping mugs of tea.

"I thought things went well at Livrossa," said Keben as he stared into the fire. "The Duke seemed quite pleased with the results of the mediation and also agreed to fund an additional journeyman to teach part-time and provide assistance in updating all of the property boundary maps."

"Yes, I'd say it was one of our more successful missions. The research you did into the old records was very helpful in making our case for the update in order to avoid future disputes," replied Jerrell as he refilled his mug from the pot simmering by the fire. "That was some very good work." Jerrell grinned. "And it didn't hurt that the Duchess found the caricature you did of the Duke quite amusing."

Keben laughed, a cheery sound on the dreary evening air as random drops of rain continued to splat down. "I'm not so sure the Duke liked it, but it was definitely one of my better pieces. I was almost tempted to keep that one myself."

Jerrell joined his laugh, then both became silent, attending to their own thoughts as the fire died down. An icy wind blew sparks into the air as it flew by.

"Going to be a cold one tonight," murmured Keben. "May as well turn in." He banked the fire, saw that the horses' pickets were secure and returned to their shelter where Jerrell had laid out their blankets. He was rubbing his hands and shivering as he adjusted his bag of extra clothing to use as a pillow. "Whew, it's already getting even colder. How about moving over so we can sleep together, master?"

It was a perfectly innocent request and they had done the same thing countless times before as a matter of simple common sense. Jerrell nodded in acquiescence as he had no logical reason he could give for a refusal, but this time Jerrell could not stop his thoughts from wandering in forbidden directions as they snuggled close together to maximize their body heat.

Keben quickly drifted off to sleep but it turned out to be a long time before Jerrell could bring himself to ignore the simmering warmth in his lower regions and join him in fitful repose.

 

**** **** ****

 

Keben's nineteenth and twentieth years continued at a brisk pace, with multiple missions and intermittent interludes at the Guild headquarters. Jerrell was quite pleased with Keben's progress and was able to get permission to have him work on more advanced tasks of the sort a junior journeyman might undertake. Despite his best efforts, however, Jerrell could not stop becoming increasingly aware of Keben as a person rather than just the apprentice he was training. They spent a great deal of time together, especially when travelling, and he enjoyed that time a great deal. He felt comfortable in Keben's presence and there was an increasing feeling of loss when they were apart. Despite their occasional disagreements, Keben never seemed to waver in his affections for Jerrell.

As Keben grew older and Jerrell's own feelings drew him to want more than a paternal relationship, Jerrell made periodic, very careful overtures to try to determine if Keben's feelings had changed, but Jerrell rarely heard anything in his voice other than an innocuous fondness when Keben called him master. He did not want to push too hard for fear of damaging the close relationship they already had, so, aside from occasional teasing hints that Jerrell could not clearly interpret, the Guild Master had to face the hard truth that his desires did not seem to be reciprocated and steeled himself to maintain the professional distance that his duties demanded. His feelings had grown so intense that he found he no longer took pleasure in the infrequent dalliances he had permitted himself with others over the years and set himself to a lonely celibacy. His one concession to his feelings was to ensure that they shared sleeping accommodations as little as possible; that was a temptation he did not enjoy having to deal with. Jerrell endured Keben's occasional innocent flirting and even managed to smile when Keben joked about his sporadic trysts with both men and women, despite the sharp little jabs to his feelings each one caused.

Jerrell's heart was partly consoled by Keben's obvious devotion to the Guild; the young man was passionate about his work, a passion they shared, and he was clearly not in a hurry to form any long-term romantic relationships. Jerrell reminded himself about his duties to the Guild and to his apprentice when he lay sleepless at night, but it increasingly did less to ease the pain.

 

**** **** ****

 

The afternoon sun shone brightly as the various Guild masters led the procession through the cobbled streets toward the crowd already gathered outside the city wall for the season's first fair. Journeymen and apprentices followed, the young men and women proudly displaying new Guild tunics in a rainbow of colors. Enticing odors of roasting meat and fresh bread greeted them as they approached the wooden stage near the tents and booths, flags flapping in the spring breeze.

Prince Lavon, first heir to the throne, welcomed the senior representatives of each Guild as they came to the stage. The prince waved as he stepped to the front of the stage, nodding as people cheered and clapped. He paused to look out over the throng as it quieted, then began a speech of welcome for the ceremony to recognize the senior apprentices who had been selected to become journeymen. When he was finished, each group brought their candidates forward to receive from the prince and their Guild leaders a parchment scroll and a new leather bag with the tools of their particular trade. Afterward, all of the participants mingled for a final gathering.

Master Jerrell of the Scribes’ Guild watched fondly as Keben eagerly congratulated his friend Targi on his elevation to Journeyman Scribe. He was proud of the fine young man Keben had grown into and how well he was absorbing the knowledge Jerrell passed on. Jerrell was certain that he would be approved for journeyman on his first attempt. He thought a moment and realized that Keben would be twenty-one in a few months and eligible to apply – how had time flown so swiftly since he brought that skinny little boy home to the Guild? His feelings about that eventual promotion, however, were a mixture of anticipation and sorrow. Jerrell sighed as he ran a thumb through his neatly trimmed beard, all too aware of the silver threads it showed.

"Thanks, Keben." Targi's grin almost split his face. "Yes, it's great, although there were times it seemed like this day would never arrive."

"I know how you feel," Keben replied with a laugh. His russet hair rippled in the sunlight as he took Targi's arm and leaned in. "I can hardly wait to make Journeyman myself so I can leave for my own adventures."

The innocent words ripped open the hidden wound in a heart that never seemed to heal, and Jerrell turned away lest his hurt leak from his eyes. It was a hurt he could not, would not ever reveal – Keben belonged first to the Guild, then to himself and never to Jerrell in the way he had come to want. He fled swiftly to a quiet corner where he could be alone with his pain, knowing that he could not speak words that might cause the young man to cleave to him out of misguided loyalty, wishing yet again that he had listened to Master Gianna's words of warning all those years ago.

 

 

 

 

**Part Two – The Apprentice**

The fair and festivities continued into the evening. The Scribes’ Guild members adjourned to the Guild headquarters after dark for a sumptuous feast to honor new journeymen, welcome new apprentices and recognize achievements by Guild members. As the event wound down after the final sweets and speeches, Journeyman Targi leaned over and whispered to Keben.

“Hey, let’s go back to my room.”

“Now?” Keben held up his half-full tankard.

“Come on, it’s my last night and you promised.” Targi touched Keben’s forearm. “We might not see each other again for a long time.”

Keben pretended to ponder the question until Targi poked him in the side. “Oh, all right.” He downed the remainder of his ale, then grinned. “Now we can go.”

Targi and Keben slipped away between the various groups who were laughing and chatting. Keben paused for a moment to watch Master Jerrell earnestly talking to two other younger masters; the light in Keben’s eyes was wistful, but he quickly shook his head and turned to follow Targi.

The two young men went to Targi’s small room; his three roommates had obligingly found other sleeping accommodations for the night. In keeping with his promise, Keben let Targi take the lead in their lovemaking and did his best to pleasure him. He brought his friend to orgasm twice and they lay holding each other afterwards in blissful silence.

Targi finally stirred a bit. “That was fantastic, Keben. Thank you so much.”

“I wanted it to be good for you. You’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of you and you’re right that it could be months or even years before we get together again.”

“You definitely succeeded.” Targi snorted a little as he sat up and reached for a bottle and two glasses beside his bed. He poured an amber liquid into each glass. “Here. I managed to snag some Torrela wine on my last trip south and I’ve been saving it for tonight.” He handed a glass to Keben, they touched rims and took slow sips.

“It really is as good as they say,” exhaled Keben. He leaned back against the wooden headboard and licked his lips to catch every drop before taking another small sip. “Thanks. This will be something else good to remember about tonight.”

“You know, it won’t be all that long before you make journeyman yourself and you can decide how to spend your last night.”

“Hey, I won’t even be eligible until I turn twenty-one and that’s months away. I’m not going to hold my breath waiting to get appointed; I might die of suffocation.” Keben shook his head. “You know how long it usually takes, Targi. Even though we have to apply early during the year we’re of age, the average actual appointment age for most journeymen is twenty-four.”

“That’s for normal people, so don’t give me that ‘I’m just one of the boys’ look. Everybody knows Master Jerrell has been pushing you hard for advancement, and you’ve already been handling work most journeymen aren’t allowed to do until their second or third year. Damnation, man, it’s gotten so nobody will even take a bet anymore that you won’t get your promotion while you’re still twenty-one. You’ve earned it and you should take it.”

“Well, I have started working on the application forms, but they tell all the senior apprentices they should do that.”

“Right, and for most people it’s just so they can review your performance and tell you what you need to do better. But I’m telling you that you’re a first-timer.”

Keben hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t want to piss people off by appearing presumptuous, and I’ve heard there’s some politics about the process…”

“There’s politics about everything.” Targi snorted and made a rude noise. “Everybody’s heard the bullcrap about how some of the older masters don’t like you because you’re Master Jerrell’s favorite and they don’t like him, but picking people for promotion to journeyman or master is one of the really big traditional things and there’re too many masters watching that process like a jerhawk with one chick for anything underhanded to slip through.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll move faster on finishing the application.”

“You bet I’m right.” Targi took a sip of wine, then winked slyly. “You know you have to, because making journeyman will help with your other problem.”

“What other problem?”

“Keben, there you go again - don’t play innocent with me, man. We’ve shared all the secrets of our lives, so I know you’re still dying inside to make hotsies with a certain master Scribe.”

“Whatever I might feel about it, that’s not going to happen.” Keben pursed his lips and looked away.

“You said you didn’t think it was right for a lowly apprentice, but if you make journeyman you can at least ask him and nobody will have an issue with it.”

“You don’t understand, Targi. This is Master Jerrell we’re talking about, not just any old master. He brought me into the Guild, taught me, pushed me to become better and has always stood up for me.” Keben sat up straight. “After I became old enough to understand such things, I began realizing how much he has done for me, despite what others thought about me or his favoring of me.”

“And that night last year we sneaked out for your birthday and got drunk, you told me you wanted him.” Targi drank some more wine. “That you learned that too when you got old enough ‘to understand such things’. And that you were just practicing with those other men and women you went out with.”

Keben was silent for a long moment, his head bowed. “I know that’s what I told you.” He looked up and sighed. “But like I said, this is Master Jerrell we’re talking about. He’s dedicated to the Guild; it’s his whole life. It’s all he thinks about, all he talks about… that’s his passion.” Keben drained the rest of his glass. “I’ve teased him occasionally, but I’m not sure that there’s room in his life for anything other than the Guild. He’s always so proper and just smiles at me and turns away when I drop a hint or talk about other people I’ve been with. I know the man is amazingly intelligent, so I can only think that either he really doesn’t want me that way or he’s incredibly dense.”

“Umm, I think he does like you, or he’s got some sort of feelings for you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well….” Targi shifted uncomfortably before sitting back, knees raised under the sheet and his arms lying atop his knees. “After you told me about your feelings for Master Jerrell, I, uh, sort of started keeping a closer eye on him.”

“Were you SPYING on him, you idiot?”

“Don’t say it like that, Keben. I was just trying to do you a favor, dammit. And I wasn’t spying.” Targi pulled away and wrapped his arms around his legs, a petulant moue on his face.

“Sorry. So what were you doing?”

“You’re not mad?”

“I promise I’m not angry.” Keben leaned over and kissed Targi’s cheek. “So tell me what you found out.” He found himself torn between reluctance and eagerness to hear the answer.

“All right.” Targi sat back and stretched his legs out. “I didn’t go following Master Jerrell around, but when you were both here in headquarters I made a point of watching him. When he thought you weren’t aware, he’d sort of glance around the room for a bit, but his eyes kept coming back to you. He’d stare at you for a while, kind of a hungry look, then he seemed to catch himself and look away again.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“Maybe not, but about a month ago Master Gianna and Master Jerrell were walking along the third-floor balcony and I just happened to have some business near there -”

Keben snickered.

“Hey, I’m telling the story. A little respect, please.”

“Of course.” Keben made an effort, but a tiny snigger still escaped. He put a hand over his mouth until his laughter completely stilled.

Targi waited another moment before he continued. “Mostly they were just talking about Guild business, which was pretty boring, but then I heard your name. Master Gianna was saying something about you becoming a journeyman soon- " Targi stopped and gave his friend a look that clearly said ‘I told you so’ – “and then she got this really serious expression on her face and put her hand on Master Jerrell’s arm. I couldn’t hear all of it, but it sounded like she was asking him if his feelings had changed since he had taken you on as his personal apprentice for advanced training.

"They stopped walking while Master Jerrell stared out into the courtyard for what seemed like forever, but finally he shook his head and said very quietly that he should have heeded her warning. Then he got all into remote master mode, you know, like when they’re trying to be really formal and important about something, and said he was fully aware of his duties and responsibilities and would fulfill them properly. I missed the next part because they turned and started walking back toward where I was so I had to move, but I did see Master Gianna pat his arm and heard her say ‘My poor Jerrell,’ before they got out of earshot.” Targi poked Keben’s shoulder. “So I think he does have some feelings for you and Master Gianna knows about it.”

“I have to admit it sounds promising…” Keben took a few long, slow breaths while Targi poured more wine. He absently took a sip, his brow furrowed.

“I think it sounds a lot more than ‘promising’,” said Targi. “When you make journeyman, you should ask him to share your bed. I bet he’d do it, especially if you asked as your ‘last night gift’ before you have to go out to your first posting.”

“I don’t want it be just that.” Keben took Targi’s hand. “The thing is, Master Jerrell is not someone I just want to go to bed with for a night or two of pleasure. I want more than that, much more than that.”

Targi stared for a moment as his eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. You don’t really mean as a partner… or even married.”

Keben nodded slowly.

“Keben, my friend, you are crazy.” Targi took a gulp of wine. “You can’t even ask to partner someone in particular for missions until at least three years after you make journeyman, let alone get married. And you can bet for damn sure Master Jerrell not only knows the rules, too, but is well aware of how closely everyone’s going to be watching you in particular. Sure, you’ve worked your ass off and earned your status, but there are still people who will think you got ahead because of favoritism from Master Jerrell and that maybe you’re paying him back by letting him bed you. After all, there are many who want to be here where I am right now and, not trying to be disrespectful of the man, but Jerrell isn’t exactly what you’d consider young anymore.”

“I’m aware of all that; believe me I’ve lain awake more nights than I can count thinking about this. I even wondered if maybe it was just lust or infatuation because I’ve spent so much time with him or feel like I owe him so much.” Keben shook his head. “No, I’m more serious than I’ve been about anything in my life. When I’m with him, no matter where we are, it just feels right and I feel comfortable, but when we’re apart it’s like part of my heart is missing. We’re both dedicated to the Guild and I don’t think either of us would ever let personal considerations override our Guild obligations, but there are other married couples, even Scribes who are married to people from other Guilds or not in any Guild at all. If they can make it work, then I can make it work with Master Jerrell.”

“If he wants to,” Targi said softly.

Keben pursed his lips and stared straight ahead for a long moment. Finally, he sighed and replied just as softly, “Yes, if he wants to.”

Targi took the glass that threatened to slip from Keben’s hand, put both glasses down on the floor, then gathered his friend into his arms. They slipped down beneath the covers and slept quietly together the rest of the night.

*** ***

“That will be all for today. Tomorrow morning everyone will meet at the front gate at seventh hour, so make sure you go to early breakfast. We’ll be gone all day practicing; lunch will be in the field. The day after tomorrow each of you will be expected to incorporate your results into an updated map of the area. Any questions?” The instructor waited a moment, then nodded a dismissal.

Keben lingered as the others left; he was one of only two apprentices in the class on the new surveying tools and techniques. The other twenty-two students were journeymen and masters who had already been approved for mapmaking as one of their specialties and they had just completed the ninth long day of a fifteen-day course. Keben made his way around the table.

“Excuse me, Master Tovas, may I speak to you a moment?”

The grey-haired master, tall and thin enough to almost be mistaken for one of his own surveying poles, glanced down. “What is it, Apprentice Keben? Do you have a question?”

“No, sir, I have a request. I’m filling out the application for advancement to journeyman and I need to have three recommendations. I was wondering if you would be willing to provide some words on my behalf. I was told you can either write something or simply speak at the review panel.”

“Yes, I’m quite familiar with the procedures,” barked Tovas. He was known just as much for his impatience as his lankiness; it was a major reason why only the best or most determined students survived his classes. His idiosyncrasies were tolerated, however, because the master had produced great advances in the understanding and techniques of cartography over the last twenty-five years, enabling the Guild to create ever more accurate maps. “So, you think you are ready for promotion?”

“All of the apprentices who are turning twenty-one this year have to submit an application, sir.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” Tovas stepped closer and pointed a bony finger at the apprentice. “Do you think you are ready for promotion?” He poked Keben’s chest. “And no hemming or hawing or dancing around the question.”

“Yes, sir.” Keben knew that Master Tovas could be difficult but that his recommendation would carry great weight because he so seldom gave them, so he had carefully considered the sorts of questions he thought the man might ask. “I believe I have the technical skills to carry out the Guild’s work at the junior journeyman level, sir, although I do realize I still have much to learn. I’m not sure I have the political skills yet, but I’m continuing to work on that.”

“You understand that when the Guild kicks you out the door as a journeyman you could be all by yourself out in the middle of some faffling little burg representing the entire Scribes’ Guild and government rule to a bunch of idiotic petty-minded locals who wouldn’t know a map from a piece of outhouse paper?” Tovas poked harder. “You and you alone! No masters to run to or hide behind, boy.”

Keben wasn’t sure if that was intended as a slur at Master Jerrell or not, but decided to ignore that implication. He answered firmly, “Yes, Master Tovas. I understand and I want that challenge. I believe in our Guild’s motto and while I know I may not always come up with the right answer, I will work hard to ensure it is the best answer I can provide. If it’s wrong or there could be an even better one, then I will learn from my mistakes and work harder the next time.”

“Hmmph,” snorted Tovas. His expression was sour, but he did take a few steps back. “Why do you want a recommendation from me? You almost failed the first of my courses you were in three years ago.”

“Yes, sir, I know.” Keben was very aware, in fact. The course had been far above his level and he shouldn’t have been in it, but he had pestered enough people to let him in that he felt he had to finish. The topic was fascinating but the level of difficulty he encountered had been a rare, severe jolt to his self-confidence. He had been forced to acknowledge to himself just how much he still needed to learn in some areas, but he had worked many extra hours to grind through. “I want your recommendation because I know you will give the reviewers an honest appraisal, sir.” Keben thought he might be taking a bit of a chance with that response, but he felt a small gleam of satisfaction when Tovas simply stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment.

“Are you planning on requesting mapmaking as one of your specialties, boy?” Tovas finally asked. Guild members could specialize in multiple areas after their third year as a journeyman, although their development as an apprentice usually strongly influenced what assignments and training they received.

“Yes, sir.” Keben simply left it at that, fearing that any elaboration might be misconstrued as an attempt to curry favor.

“Very well. I don’t have time to waste on writing apprentice reviews, but I shall speak to the panel.”

“Thank you, sir,” started Keben, but Master Tovas had already turned away to leave. Keben waited a few moments, then gathered his tools and notes. “Well, one down and two to go,” he muttered to himself as he left.

A few weeks later, Master Jerrell returned to the Guild headquarters from another of his numerous trips. Keben waited until his mentor had had a chance to clean up and eat, knowing how fond Jerrell was of a hot bath after several days on the road. He found the master Scribe in a remote office, writing up a report. He knocked quietly on the partially open door.

“Come.” Jerrell had a frown as he stared down at a fresh sheet of paper.

“Welcome back, Master Jerrell. I was wondering if I might speak to you for a few minutes.” Keben waited in the doorway. He felt a familiar warmth growing inside at the pleasure of spending time with his heart’s desire, even if it was only for a few minutes.

Jerrell turned and looked, a smile lighting his face. “Of course. Please come in. It’s good to see you again.”

Keben sat down across the table. “I have a request, sir. I’ve been working on my application for journeyman and I was wondering if you would be willing to provide one of the three references I need.”

“Ah, that’s right, the panel will be meeting soon.” Jerrell looked away with a sigh.

Keben wondered at the Master’s suddenly pursed lips and downcast eyes; perhaps Targi was right and Jerrell did have feelings for him. Or maybe he will just miss having somebody to do the scut work on his field trips, a contrary inner voice scoffed, so don’t get your hopes up. Keben repressed both thoughts as a half smile began tugging at a corner of Jerrell’s lips.

“Of course I will. In fact, it would be a pleasure to do so and certainly a far more pleasant task than all these other damned reports.” Jerrell waved a hand over the stacks of paper with a rueful grin. “Is there anything you’ve been up to here while I’ve been gone that I should address?”

“The only important thing was the course on the new mapmaking tools, but I finished that with no problems. In fact, you won’t need to address that at all because Master Tovas agreed to be one of my references also.”

“Master Tovas? Really?” Jerrell’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yes, sir. He’s not writing anything, but did say he’d speak to the panel.”

“That’s quite a coup to get the old curmudgeon to do even that much.” Jerrell shook his head admiringly. “I don’t think he’s done more than a handful of recommendations for journeyman or master these last ten years.” Jerrell gave a small laugh. “You may have to pick a few panel members off the ground from the shock when Tovas walks in.”

Keben grinned briefly. “Well, at least it will keep things short. Master Tovas is not one to waste words on what he calls ‘useless niceties’.”

“Very true.” Jerrell hesitated a moment before continuing. “Would it be intruding if I were to ask who your third reference will be?”

“No, sir. In fact, I wanted to ask you about that, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind, but I would think you'd have several people willing to speak on your behalf.”

“Well, almost everyone seems to have assumed that I would be asking you, and there are a number of people who have sort of suggested or have been pointed out to me as people I should not approach. There are also several others who have dropped hints that they would like to be asked. I know politics, or at least internal Guild politics, is still one of my weakest skills so I’m not clear how I should proceed, Master Jerrell.”

“Ah, I see.” Jerrell sighed as he steepled his fingers, elbows on the table. “I’m afraid you’re caught up in a situation which isn’t really your fault.”

“Do you mean the issues around ‘Jerrell’s Golden Boy’? asked Keben softly.

Jerrell’s nostrils flared as he looked steadily at Keben. “That is, unfortunately, still a problem for some of our Guild members and I’m sorry if you’ve been harassed about that.”

“I realized several years ago what was happening and I don’t lose any sleep over that sort of thing, even though I don’t like many of the things that have been said about you. I do realize I’ve been given opportunities that not many others have had, but I’ve worked very hard to prove that I earned them.” A touch of stubborn defiance briefly lit his eyes.

“I know; I wouldn’t have dragged you along on all those trips if I didn’t think you were worthy and were learning things that would benefit both you and the Guild. The major issues are very tangled, however, mostly between two competing visions of the future of our Guild. On the one hand, you have the traditionalists who want to continue doing things the old way. On the other hand, there are many of us who see the world changing and want the Guild to grow and expand to meet old and new needs of the kingdom. Do you understand that much?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve heard the discussions and rumors about changes the king and ruling council want to make, like the new canals and improving the mail service to communicate faster. I know there are a lot of the masters and journeymen who don’t want to see the Guild involved in things like mediating disputes; some of them don’t even like the idea of expanding schools to teach more commoners reading and arithmetic. The basics I’ve got down, but apprentices never get enough information about what’s going on at the highest Guild levels to be able to figure out the nuances.”

“Right. To keep it simple, I’m considered one of the leaders of the ‘modernists’, if you will. I believe we should be spreading and expanding knowledge, not hoarding it. And because you are associated with me, some masters will not want to help beyond what their duties as teachers may require. You may as well avoid them rather than court bitter diatribes. You have some people who genuinely like you and just want to help, and there is a group who might wish to earn good will with me by at least appearing to support you.”

Keben shook his head. “I think I can easily rule out the people who want nothing to do with me, but that still leaves me with the dilemma of who to ask. There are several masters and a few senior journeymen who I think sincerely would like to help, but I only have one more slot and don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Nor do I want to appear to show favoritism.”

“That is quite a conundrum.” Jerrell leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and stared at a point somewhere past Keben’s head in what the apprentice had come to consider the master’s ‘thinking pose’.

There was silence in the room for a few minutes until Jerrell spoke again. He dragged his gaze back to focus on Keben, and there was a glint of mischief in his blue eyes. “I have a suggestion that will nicely solve your problem, my boy.”

Keben hadn’t seen that particular look very many times, but had learned to be wary of committing himself to one of Jerrell’s occasional schemes that usually resulted in a cunning assault that achieved some objective he wanted. Those schemes also sometimes left obtuse or difficult people looking silly without even realizing they’d been had. He replied cautiously, “And what might that be, sir?”

“Ask Master Gianna.” Jerrell smiled triumphantly.

Keben stared, mouth half open. “I can’t ask her. She’s on the Guild Council… they don’t deal with apprentices unless it’s something huge like expelling one.”

Jerrell stood up and walked around the table; Keben automatically stood up also. “It’s the perfect solution. She’s senior enough that nobody can say anything negative or get their feelings in a snit, and she’s been following your progress since you joined the Guild. Do you remember that she led the team that approved my Choosing of you? I was a brand new master, barely able to find my arse with both hands, according to some, and without her backing I think the other masters would have tossed me out into the mud for daring to bring in that skinny little boy from nowhere without their blessing.”

“I didn’t realize that was Master Gianna. I just remembered that I stood outside the tent while there was a lot of shouting going on.” Keben smiled. “I thought I was in trouble and was getting ready to run away if you hadn’t come out when you did and got me.”

“It was indeed Master Gianna, and I can assure you that she has been aware of your progress; she made sure that I was also aware of it when she felt things weren’t going well,” said Jerrell dryly.

“Oh. Was I that much of a problem?” Keben felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck as he remembered some of his ‘exploits’.

“Probably not that much more so than I was as an apprentice.” Jerrell smiled and put a hand on Keben’s shoulder as he leaned a little closer. “Master Gianna’s not a monster, and I don’t remember self-confidence ever being a weakness I had to note on your progress reports. You need to learn when and how to be unconventional, so you should go speak to her; I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Keben was already very pleasantly surprised by the warmth of Jerrell’s tone and the little extra squeeze of that big hand. He smiled and nodded, allowing himself to put a little tease in his reply. “And I suppose you’ll want to know the outcome so you can use that information?”

“I’m sure the word will be out before the review panel meets,” Jerrell raised an eyebrow, “but it would be helpful if you could drop me a hint ahead of time.”

Keben laughed and daringly moved closer. “How could I resist the opportunity to repay a bit of all that you have done for me, Master Jerrell? Of course I’ll let you know what happens.” A spike of desire was moving him to try for a hug when Jerrell dropped his arm and stepped back.

“Thank you.” The cloak of formality once more enveloped the master Scribe. “Is there anything else you need to finish your application? I believe they are due soon.”

“Everything else is finished.” Keben hid his disappointment at Jerrell’s withdrawal.

“Good.” Jerrell went back around the table and sat down. “If there is nothing else, then I should get back to these reports.”

Keben bowed and headed for the door. He was almost out when he heard his name called; he stopped and turned around.

Jerrell had turned in his chair; his expression was serious. “Keben, I know there is a strong feeling among many members of the Guild that you will be promoted to journeyman this cycle on your first application.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve heard the conversations, but I’m trying not to assume that will happen.”

Jerrell nodded. “That is good. Arrogance and undue pride are not among your faults but your self-confidence can be construed to be one or both, so please be careful in how you display your emotions the next several months.”

“I will.”

“If you are selected, it will be because you earned it. If you are not, it only means that you still have more to learn, not that you are a bad apprentice. In either case, you have worked hard and I am very proud of both the man and the Scribe that you have become, Keben. There is nothing anyone can say to take that away.”

Keben replied softly, “Thank you, Master Jerrell. If I have learned anything useful, it has been due to your teaching. If I have become a good person, it has been due to your example. I will always be grateful for everything you have done for me,” he allowed himself a half smile to lighten the mood, “even if I didn’t always appreciate it at the time.”

Jerrell licked his lips and looked as if he wished to say more, but in the end only nodded and turned back to his work.

Keben walked back to his room; his mood was somber as he reviewed the entire meeting. He wasn’t entirely sure about Master Jerrell’s suggestion to visit Master Gianna, but he had felt that perhaps there were hints that Jerrell really did have feelings for him, even beyond the pride he had expressed at the end. Keben decided to bury his personal feelings for now and pursue being the best possible Scribe he could be to justify Jerrell’s support of his efforts.

*** ***

“Hurry up, get in line!” The senior journeyman tasked with putting the procession together dashed up and down the line, chivvying people into place. At the front, masters grumbled or looked amused, the candidates in the middle mostly looked happy as they smoothed new blue tunics and the array of journeymen and apprentices at the rear surged impatiently.

At a horn’s signal, the group started out of the gate of the Scribes’ headquarters into the early afternoon sun, heading through town to join the other Guilds for the big fall festival outside the city gates. Today the Guilds would make the annual promotions of new masters, an event held only once a year, as well as a handful of new journeymen considered particularly worthy of advancement at this time instead of waiting for the spring anointment.

Keben moved with the throng but barely felt the ground beneath his feet. Despite the expectations of apparently almost all of the rest of the Guild, he hadn’t really believed that he would be one of the rare ‘first timers’ until he had been called before the Guild Council a few days ago, along with all of the others receiving promotions. In fact, he had been so busy the previous four months that he hadn’t really had time to think about the possibility.

He remembered the day he had braved the wrath of the Council’s administrative officer to request an appointment with Master Gianna; the very senior journeyman had delivered a withering stare and pompous monologue about the proper place of apprentices but in the end had reluctantly put Keben's name down for a ten-minute meeting the next day. The ten minutes had turned into sixty of genial conversation over tea and cookies; it was the pleasantest inquisition Keben had ever encountered as the master asked about why he wanted to be a journeyman, his strengths and weaknesses. She even asked for his opinion about what he thought the role of the Scribes should be in the world. She appeared to be genuinely interested in him and even commented that perhaps it would be a good idea for the senior masters to spend more time with the apprentices.

It seemed that Master Gianna had been more than interested. The following day Keben was told all of his other activities were canceled and he was to report to Master Duczian until further notice. It turned out that Master Duczian was a wizened, very elderly woman who had been the Guild’s liaison to the central government for over thirty years before recently retiring. Aside from the four hours when he had to report to the journeyman review panel and an hour off for his twenty-first birthday, Keben had spent the better part of three months, seven days a week, learning about ‘politics’.

There had been more than one particularly long day when Keben had regretted ever opening his mouth to tell anyone that he thought the topic was one of his weaknesses, although by the end of the ordeal he had to admit that the private tutorial had been worth the pain. He supposed it had the added ‘advantage’ of keeping him so busy he seldom had time to miss Master Jerrell, who left on yet another mission a week into Keben’s new assignment.

It turned out that Keben knew both more and less than he had thought. He was quite good at understanding individual people; it was his insight into people’s characters that enabled him to make devastatingly accurate caricatures. When it came to people in groups and interactions, according to Master Duczian the apprentice was hopelessly ignorant and she tut-tutted at length about the need for the Guild to do a better job of teaching these sorts of things. They spent endless hours discussing politics as processes of government, politics as public affairs, politics as compromise and consensus and politics as power and control of resources. They moved from the general to the specific and she drilled Keben on the government structures from top to bottom.

Eventually they began tying it all together by going back to people and relating persons to issues such as ethics, power, interrelationships and conflicts. She stressed the need to understand both individuals and their positions, identifying what was important to them, what level of power they held and finally negotiating techniques. They never discussed her personal opinions about why it was important for him to understand these things, but the further along they got the more Keben began to recognize things that Master Jerrell had talked about or accomplished when he took on the role of mediation instead of just providing services. By the time Master Duczian released him, Keben felt he had a much better understanding of not just politics but why the Guild needed to change as the government and their world changed.

All of that passed from Keben’s mind as the various Guild processions approached the festival grounds, found their assigned areas and sent their candidates to take their places in line. He was glad the Scribes’ Guild was one of the more senior groups and he only had to wait as Prince Lavon presented new journeymen and masters for three other Guilds. Finally, it was their turn; Keben and the two other new journeymen passed across the stage for their formal presentation, received their new leather bags, shook hands and left via the other side of the stage so the new masters could be presented. As they waited for the rest of the presentations, Keben and the other two grinned at each other and caressed the leather bags embossed on their outer flaps with the Scribes’ motto, “To serve with truth, impartiality and quality."

As they circulated after the ceremony, Keben now understood why his friend Targi had been so ecstatic at his promotion. Each time someone addressed him as Journeyman Keben, he felt a little tingle of happiness; it was a huge step up from being a mere apprentice and now he felt like a ‘real’ Scribe. Soon he would be going out on his own to provide services and represent the Guild.

That last thought engendered mixed emotions. Yes, it was a big advancement in responsibilities and trust, and in one way it put him closer to being able to ask for the relationship he wanted with Master Jerrell. On the other hand, though, it meant he would probably see even less of him as they both went their separate ways serving the Guild. He found his feelings alternating from high to low as he went about the festival grounds looking for Jerrell. He knew the master had been in the procession but he couldn’t find him anywhere. He had to settle for enjoying the congratulations of others, while ignoring the few pointed looks of dislike.

It was not until almost everyone returned to the Guild headquarters for the evening feast that Keben caught sight of Master Jerrell. He waved at him but got only a half-hearted smile and wave in return; it almost seemed as if Jerrell was avoiding his former apprentice. Keben lost track of him again until they all sat down to eat but managed to spot him at the end of a distant table and determined to find him after the meal.

The three new journeymen were duly lauded, but the lion’s share of the recognition went to the eight new masters. That was fine with Keben as he was more intent on contacting Jerrell than drawing attention to himself. He felt he had already received his share of adulation and had fended off several more or less explicit offers to make his ‘last night’ a memorable one. When he saw Jerrell slip away after dessert instead of hanging around to converse with his peers as he usually did, Keben followed suit and managed to depart quietly.

Keben unearthed the bottle of special wine he had been hoarding and two glasses before beginning his search for Master Jerrell. He wasn’t in any of the usual places nor was he in his quarters, so finally Keben climbed the stairs and pushed open a heavy wooden door that guarded the entrance onto the roof, part of which was flat. It was a clear, windless night with just a touch of the chill that would soon be upon them with winter’s coming. Keben saw a tall figure in a cloak silhouetted against the moonlight and made his way over. His heart beat faster as he considered yet again what he wanted to say, what it was he did or did not want to happen.

“Good evening, Master Jerrell,” said Keben quietly. “May I join you?” He thought he saw Jerrell’s shoulders stiffen for a moment, but the next moment a hand gestured him forward.

Keben moved up to within a foot of the master Scribe and they stood in silence for a while. The view was magnificent: midnight blue sky, myriad tiny sparkling stars, a moon just past its full glory, the capital city laid out before them, scattered lights in homes, and the grand council building towering near the west wall as it cast shadows towards the king’s palace. A mile beyond the city walls, the great Katol River glistened in the moonlight as it passed under its three bridges. Lights from barges and coaches were visible even at this time of night as the business of the kingdom continued, while far beyond the fertile plains the darkness of forests and mountain ranges faded into the black horizon.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Jerrell finally ventured. He turned to face Keben. “A good night for good things to happen. I’ve been remiss in not recognizing your advancement, Journeyman Keben; please accept my congratulations for a well-deserved promotion.”

“Thank you, Master Jerrell.” Keben set the glasses on the wide parapet and poured wine into each. “I brought a little something to celebrate with, if you will join me.” He offered a glass to Jerrell and waited until he accepted it before picking up the other.

Jerrell raised his glass. “To good venturing.” His smile looked a little forced and did not extend to his eyes.

“To good venturing.” Keben returned the salute and they both took a sip. He raised his own glass in turn. “To good friends.”

“To good friends.” Jerrell hesitated, his gaze fixed on Keben for a moment, before he absently drank twice.

“Will you sit with me for a while, Master Jerrell? The night is indeed a fine one and there is more wine to be finished.” Keben moved to one of the many benches, sat down in the middle and patted the spot next to him. He tried to keep his tone friendly and neutral.

Body tautly upright, Jerrell looked at Keben before carefully sitting at the end to Keben’s right. He seemed to be torn between wanting to be there and bolting at any moment.

Keben was enjoying being with Jerrell, but it seemed that if the man had any feelings for him, he was doing a damned good job of hiding them. He decided to try to keep Jerrell there as long as possible so he started with general topics about the Guild. Apparently, he hit the jackpot when he mentioned his recent lessons with Master Duczian; it seemed that Jerrell was quite a fan of hers and had had received the benefit of her teachings on several occasions. As the level of wine in the bottle steadily went down, they had lively discussions of past missions where Jerrell had attempted to put her techniques to use.

As both men relaxed, Keben slowly moved closer. He was ecstatic as they argued and laughed, much as they had during those years when Keben was accompanying Jerrell on mission after mission. This was the man he had come to love and admire and wanted to spend his life with. Eventually, however, they reached the end of the bottle and conversation began dwindling.

Jerrell drained the last of his wine and glanced up at the moon. “Goodness, look at the time. I’ve been keeping you up far too late.” His mood changed back to distant distraction and he seemed to almost physically withdraw from Keben’s nearness. “Postings will be tomorrow and I’m sure you have other business to complete tonight.”

“Well, I’ve certainly had a lot of offers.” Keben teased as he had usually been wont to do about other sexual trysts. “I suppose it could be a long night, but if so I’m sure I’ll have many days on the road to my next assignment to rest.” He wanted a long night, but not with anyone else. He just wished he could say that to the master Scribe.

“Yes, I imagine quite a few of the apprentices and even journeymen would be eager to join you for ‘last night’ or as many other nights you might want.” Jerrell abruptly stood and began to turn toward the door.

Keben blinked at the painful, bitter undertone in Jerrell’s voice, slight though it was. If he hadn’t known Jerrell for so many years he probably wouldn’t have been able to detect it.

“Wait! Please don’t go,” called Keben. He stood up and held a hand out. “There’s no need to leave.”

Jerrell turned and looked at Keben. His eyes were dark, his posture tense. “Why? Do you want to flaunt more of your triumphs or just tease somebody else who is young enough for you to want in your bed and waiting for you to come?”

Keben stood silently, stunned at Jerrell’s reaction. Flaunt? Was that what Jerrell had thought he meant all these years? And OLD? Where had that come from? The epiphany hit hard and painfully. The only thing he had ever meant was to keep things comfortable in their relationship, and he had thought humor about his infrequent sexual explorations was the best way to avoid awkward questions. If Targi was right about Jerrell’s feelings, though, Keben realized with a sick dismay how Jerrell might have perceived his comments.

“Master Jerrell, I didn’t…” Keben’s usual gift for words had deserted him, and he found his thoughts stumbling over each other.

Jerrell’s harsh breathing was loud in the still night. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” The tone was as stiff as his posture. “Good evening, Journeyman Keben.” He turned and began walking quickly away.

“No,” Keben cried out. He couldn’t let things end like this. He ran after Jerrell and skidded to a stop in front of the doorway. “Please listen to me. There are no others tonight.”

Jerrell had started to push past Keben, but at the journeyman’s cry he stopped and took a step back. He did not speak and his expression was stone, but there was a question in his eyes.

“There are no others tonight,” repeated Keben, “and I’m the one who should be apologizing to you if I have you hurt you in any way with things I have said and done. We both know I have been with others in bed, and I had thought to make light of those times, but I swear to you that there has never been another but you in my heart.”

Jerrell blinked and he stood with his mouth partially open for several seconds before speaking. “What are you talking about?” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I’ve been a fool and a brainless idiot.” Keben swallowed hard. “I grew to love you, Jerrell, but I was afraid to speak of it, afraid that you would reject the maunderings of a mere apprentice. But I swear to you that I never meant you harm when I experimented with others. I didn’t know how to talk to you about such things without crying out my own feelings… I thought if I made a joke of my flings, you would believe they were just silly flirtations.”

Jerrell shook his head. “You….” He turned, stumbled back to a bench and sat heavily with his head in his hands.

Keben followed, his heart racing, not sure what would happen. He stood silently in front of Jerrell and bit his lower lip to hold in a flood of babbling words.

Finally, Jerrell looked up. “Is this a dream? Some melancholic fantasy returned to torture my nights?” His eyes were bright in the moonlight.

Keben went to his knees. “I swear to you it is true. I love you and no other. It is only when I am with you that I feel whole and content; you hold my heart and have the power to make my life a joy or a misery.”

“We are both Scribes, Keben.” Jerrell reached a tentative hand to brush Keben’s cheek with one finger. “I want to believe… by all the gods I want to believe. But how can this be? When I thought your feelings were given to others, I swore that I would not interfere, that our duties to the Guild would take precedence over all else. I can’t change that.”

“Nor would I want you to change that, Master Jerrell.” Keben reached up and took Jerrell’s hands within his to still their trembling. “It was your passion and dedication to our work that first captivated me, even before I grew old enough to learn to love the man who is Jerrell. And while I do love Jerrell, the kind, intelligent, compassionate man who brought me to manhood, I share the same devotion to our work and to the principles that guide our Guild and that Master Jerrell taught me to honor.” Keben kissed the inkstained fingers he held. “If you have any feelings for me, though, Jerrell, please tell me. If you don’t, I promise I won’t bother you again.”

“Feelings?” Jerrell closed his eyes and bowed his head. “There was a time when I thought the Guild and our work was everything. I thought I was training you for the good of the Guild, because you had such potential to be a great Scribe.” He gave a short laugh. “Master Gianna even tried to warn me when I asked to take you on as my apprentice, but I did not listen.” Jerrell raised his head. “She was right. The longer we were together, the more you grew up, the more I came to love you even though I was convinced you did not return those feelings.”

“I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you and ask for your forgiveness, Jerrell. I love you and want to spend my life together with you, but I respect the rules of our Guild. I know I have no right to ask you for anything permanent for three years, but I will wait if you want, I will stay celibate if you want, if you tell me there is hope that you will consider my request.”

“I have already forgiven you, my love, my heart.” Jerrell leaned closer. “But are you sure you understand what you are asking for? I am not a man who can commit lightly to such a thing and once we start, I don’t know that I could bear to ever part from you.”

“I would be happy to share whatever part of you that you are willing to give for as long as you will have me. To be with you, to be able to work with you… I can think of no better way to spend the rest of my life.” Keben squeezed Jerrell’s hands to forestall his words. “I know that even if you agree to marry me, Jerrell, we will be partners in our work only as the Guild allows or needs our combined service, but every moment we can be together will be worth it, and the pain of every parting will be erased by the bliss of each reunion.”

“Keben…” breathed Jerrell as he slipped off the bench to his knees facing the journeyman. “Yes, I will gladly have you for mine, to share our life and our love.” He pulled his hands from Keben’s grasp and enveloped him in a hug.

Keben returned the embrace as his blood thundered in his ears from the happiness racing through him. Time seemed to stop as they held each other tight.

Eventually, Keben drew back slightly and whispered, “Jerrell, I would beg a gift of thee, my love.”

“If it is within my power, you shall have it.” Jerrell nuzzled the base of Keben’s neck.

“I know not where the Guild shall send me tomorrow, but I ask that we start our own new tradition of first night instead of last night, so that I shall have the warmth of your memory to stave off the chill of the lonely nights ahead.”

Jerrell pulled his head back far enough that the tips of their noses almost touched. “My love, beware of what you have awakened.” He grinned. “I shall give you a fire to stir your very soul for all our days to come.” With a wicked glint in his blue eyes, he swept his cloak off onto the roof, then pulled Keben down to lie with him, smothering Keben’s delighted laugh with a kiss.

 

_finis_


End file.
